


Alp

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Spock contemplates the paths on the mountain.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 16
Kudos: 85





	Alp

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Above the thin veil of the clouds, the stars are captivating. They were pretty from his village, always smothered and dimmed but still twinkling and constant, and they drew him like a moth to a flame, despite all of his father’s warnings. Everyone in Spock’s village is content in their peaceful valley, has been for centuries, but Spock would stand in the middle of the cobblestone street and reach up for the stars. Irrational and foolish, he always felt like if he climbed a little higher, just a few paces up the mountain, he could stand on his toes and _touch them_. So near the mountain’s very peak, Spock’s no closer to that goal, but the unfiltered view is worth every laboured breath and aching footfall. The unhindered sky is _beautiful_.

For the first few nights after he broke past the clouds, Spock couldn’t sleep, because he’d lie on his back and just stare upwards long into the night, from the stars’ first glimmer to their slow fade at dawn. They still capture him now. But then his gaze gradually trails downwards, because, somehow, he’s found something even more wonderful. 

He watches the firelight flicker over Jim’s sleeping form, casting his peach skin an even deeper orange-red. The rounded tips of his strange ears peek through his darkened hair, and sometimes they still cause Spock to do a double-take, even though they’ve traveled together now for days. When Spock first found Jim on the cliffside, it was a greater shock than lightning. There shouldn’t have been anyone outside the village. But there’s no doubt that Jim is foreign. Not only has Spock never met him before, never heard of him, but his hair is jagged and his clothes are wrinkled, and he smiles and laughs so freely. He hums under his breath when they hike and _touches Spock_ without reservation. Spock’s wrist still burns where Jim grabbed him in the morning, saving him from slipping down the slope into an icy stream. 

Jim sleeps serenely next to their open fire, even though the stars are out, and he claimed the same wanderlust that Spock shamefully admitted. Jim came from his own village on the east side of the mountain. The clouds make it too difficult to see his huts from their high plateau. But another few days and they’ll make it to the very top, with nowhere left to climb. They’ll be as close to the stars as any Vulcan or _Human_ could be. 

And then they’ll have to go back down again, and now that’s what keeps Spock up at night, because he doesn’t know which way they’ll go. 

“Vulcans never rest, huh?” Jim mumbles, over the faint crackle of the dying wood and the crickets amongst the trees. The grassy slope has cleared for them, but wild goats and le matyas still run in the distance, owls piping in occasionally. Jim’s rough ‘jeans’ and plaid shirt look more suited to the wilderness than the traveling tunic Spock patched together. Even the dirt smeared across Jim’s cheek doesn’t look so out of place. He reaches out across the pile of their packs and gently swats Spock’s ankle— _more physical contact._ Then he yawns, “Get some sleep.”

Spock slept so peacefully two days ago, when he and Jim came across a bubbling stream. Its hushed whisper reminded him of an old Vulcan chant his mother used to sing to him at night. And he and Jim had hidden from a bear that day, tucked so close together in the hollow of an ancient tree, that the rush overwhelmed him. Jim’s torrential energy is still thrilling, still exhausting, but Spock has learned to weather it and has new wars inside his head. Jim must seem to see that in Spock’s eyes, because he asks more seriously, “What is it?” 

Spock sinks off the log he was sitting on. He leans back against it instead, his legs stretching out, careful not to brush Jim’s stretched-out form. They aren’t at the peak yet, so there’s no need to force the topic. But Jim pulls things out of him his own people never did, and he finds himself answering, “When we reach the summit, will we leave east or west?”

There’s a long stretch of pseudo-silence: as quiet as it could be on a thriving mountain. As flippant as Jim can be at times, he’s clearly paying this proper thought. There are parts where he seems to be _in charge_ , where he so easily becomes the leader of their newly joint expedition, and maybe Spock could justify just following him home. But Spock weighs into decisions too and could never be a mindless passenger. Jim rephrases, “You’re asking if when we’re done, we’ll go to your village or mine.”

Spock nods: precisely. It’ll be difficult either way. Jim seemed as surprised to see Spock as Spock was to see him. Maybe more so; he doesn’t hide his emotions nearly as strictly. Spock doesn’t know how Jim would explain Spock to his family.

Spock doesn’t know how he could ever explain Jim to anyone. Jim is a force that must be seen to believed. He’s intelligent enough, brave and handsome, but unimaginably illogical; Spock imagines they would both be ostracized within the year, one way or another. But Spock doesn’t know if he could live amongst a whole village as mercurial as Jim. 

Spock could go west and Jim east, and perhaps they could meet again next spring, but then Spock would be back to lying in bed alone at night with neither kind of beauty. He couldn’t lose the stars and Jim all at the same time. 

Jim doesn’t suggest that they part ways either. Spock doesn’t miss that. Jim reaches out, palm open. 

Against his better judgment, Spock slips his hand into Jim’s. Their fingers intertwine, and a shiver runs through Spock’s entire body, because it feels _so right_. The moment he began his journey, he knew he had to keep going. He’s _so_ glad he did. And Jim can feel that through the mental bond that thickens at his touch: Jim brushes his mind and sees all the other Vulcans turning their backs, but Spock hiking his bag over his shoulder and starting the climb. 

Spock lets Jim tug him down, until Spock’s spread out in the grass and lying next to Jim. He takes the side next to the fire, preferring the warmth, though Jim’s body at his front is hotter. Jim keeps hold of his hand and tells him, “We’ll head north and explore.”

That was never an option. There’s no telling what lies north—maybe no food, maybe no water. No shelter, no villagers, none of Surak’s teachings—but there might be more and different stars, and Jim will be with him. 

Spock nods against the earth. Jim smiles, and with that comfort, Spock finally sleeps, and dreams of other worlds.


End file.
